Friday August 8, 2008

I’m back in Zonkizizwe now, and it’s been a few days since I’ve returned from Lesotho—I’ve been tired from my journey but I will recount what has happened on the rest of my trip as best as I can. I decided to leave the lodge on the third day because I had done everything I wanted to do, and I was anxious to get back to the center. I wanted to spend more time with the kids before I leave in two days.

Mafa and I ended going on the village trek that last day in the morning. I made him a lunch and also gave him some food to bring to his family. Now that I look back I wish I would have made him some more sandwiches. I told him I wish I could give him some money for a tip, but I was running low and I still needed to get back to Maseru. He laughed and told me that lunch was fine—he wasn’t too greedy for money because it “couldn’t replace the feeling one gets from living a good life.” Anyways, he took me to the home of the sangoma, and when we got there he was tending to his garden. We went into his home and Mafa translated for me, because the sangoma couldn’t speak English very well. He shook some seashells and predicted that I would be married soon (gee, just what I’ve always wanted) and have two children, one boy and one girl. He also told me that God and all my ancestors have been very good to me, and I must throw a party for them to thank them for my good fortune in life. I thanked him, and then Mafa and I rode back through the village and then to Mafeteng Primary School.

At the school I took some time to talk to the teachers. They told me that their biggest hardship was their salary—they only get paid about the equivalent of 300 - 400 US dollars per year! The schools are desperately underfunded as well, and many times the teachers finding themselves paying out of pocket for the learners’ various school costs. I said my goodbyes and we made our way back to the lodge.

When I got back I found that there were hundreds of kids waiting outside of the lodge for school shoes. Apparently some random Dutch guy had donated R 40,000 worth of shoes to the schoolchildren in the Malealea area! I could see at least four different kinds of school uniforms. Some of the children had walked very far that day in order to receive shoes.

As much as I would have liked to stay at the lodge for another night, it was time to go. Mafa helped me find a taxi going back to Maseru. I was very sad to leave Mafa—he was such an awesome guy—but we did part all smiles.

During my short stay at the lodge, I wasn’t really able to gauge how much of asset to the community it really was. The lodge does employ many people from the surrounding villages, but the people are being paid pittance wages in comparison to the amount of profit that the lodge is raking in. The lodge promises to offer guests a taste of “The Real Africa,” but I’m still not quite sure what that means. Though the staff is mainly African, the majority of people who stay there are—you guessed it—white people. They are mainly Europeans from Holland, France, Spain, the UK, and Italy—I was the only American there as far as I knew. These people come to experience “The Real Africa,” but I’m not sure they’re getting it. Pony Treks to the falls or bushman paintings are awful nice, but it’s not something the average African can afford. The huge, delicious meals are wonderful, but the majority of people in Africa aren’t eating that well every night. Nor do many Africans have clean running water, electricity, or a luxurious roof over their heads. Most Africans (most people in general, with the exception of the rich few) are worried about keeping food on the table and their family together, or worried about dealing with poor health and HIV/AIDS. Sure, the lodge is providing jobs for people in the community and giving donations to local schools, but I must keep in mind that while I stay warm and well fed in my hut after a nice long, hot shower, or when my holiday is over and I go back to my comfortable home, some of these people working at the lodge have a long distance to walk home in the dark. And when they get home, they may not be met with dinner, a warm shower, or a bed to sleep in. I must not forget my privilege—I must not forget that sometimes I benefit from someone else’s sacrifice, and I must make amends.

On the taxi to Maseru I met a woman named Clara who was from Zimbabwe, and she helped me find my way when we transferred taxis and when we got to Maseru. She told me how she comes to South Africa and Lesotho to sell things so she can go home and pay her children’s school fees and pay for food. Clara exchanges most of her Rand for Zim dollars on the black market because the banks in Zimbabwe don’t have any money. Needless to say, she was not a Mugabe fan. We shared my left over bread and peanut butter on the way to Maseru, and I gave her some Rand to get back home.

When I got to Maseru I decided it was too late to try and go home now, so I booked a room at the Victoria Hotel in downtown Maseru. The hotel was very costly, but it was getting late and there was no guarantee that there would be open rooms at any of the guesthouses. It was nice to sleep in the big queen bed with soft sheets and take a hot shower in a bathroom indoors, so I can’t complain too much. I stopped at a Shop Rite and picked up some food for dinner and breakfast, ate dinner, watched some really bad movies, and went to sleep.

I woke up early the next morning and found a taxi back to Joburg. On the taxi I met this really awesome girl named Emerald who had also been vacationing by herself in Lesotho. She offered to drive me home when we found out halfway back to Johannesburg that a national COSATU strike was in effect, keeping the taxis from running all day. When South Africans strike, they really strike! Emerald said that if someone was found breaking the strike, other people would “beat them to death.” I’m really glad I met Emerald that day or else I don’t know how I would have gotten back to Zonke. She and her friend Choma who drove me home refused to take any money for driving me back—I was very grateful to them. We exchanged information and I promised her that I would keep in touch. Never before coming to South Africa had I been shown so much kindness by strangers.

I’m really glad that I decided to make this trip on my own. It gave me a chance to reflect and think about the summer, and I was able to prove to myself that I can do anything and go anywhere on my own. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to trust oneself!

***

Today was the last day I would be here while the kids were at the center, so I said my goodbyes. I cried a little, but I stopped when I convinced myself that it won’t be so long before I see them again. I’m happy that I came back early to say goodbye to them. I only wish I could tell each and every one of them how special they are to me, and how much they have taught me this summer.

I can’t believe this summer has gone by so fast! At times it was very hard to be here, but overall I am glad I came to work at the center. I have grown so much, and I now realize that I can truly do anything once I set my mind to it. I will not let myself be scared to experience living in the world anymore. These kids at the center have given me a strength I have never believed I could achieve—this center has changed me for good. Each little step I took—traveling through Zonke on my own, then to Germiston, then to Lesotho, or taking care of the children, teaching a class, getting the guts to have a conversation with someone different from myself, learning a new language, riding a horse up the side of a mountain—all of it and more!—all of these little steps have brought me to this moment of contentment and clarity with who I am as a person. I am so thankful for having this opportunity, and I am indebted to all who helped me get here.

It’s so quiet here tonight… Nomusa went to her mother’s village to see her great-grandmother for the first time, Phindile is in Kwa-Zulu Natal burying her grandmother, and Bongi is in Germiston, so it’s just me, Gogo, and the kids here tonight. It’s nice when it’s quiet here, but when I go home I know that sometimes I am going to miss the noise of Zonke. Noise equals life.